Time Passages
by Hot Magnolias
Summary: Kirsa is a scholar of literature and history, but she is also obsessed with a certain king that has been dead for centuries. When her "mad scientist" uncle gives her a special gift, Kirsa finds herself face to face with her obsession. She must trust a man she knows only from history books and her own research. Is he a nobleman or a brutal and ruthless soldier as often depicted?


Time Passages

Henry rode quickly through the forest. It was cold. Perhaps it was imprudent of him to go out alone today, but he had to get away from court. It appeared that he had a long way to go and darkness would soon be upon him.

"Damned smithy! He took his time with your shoes," he exclaimed irritated to his horse.

Just as he rounded an escarpment, his horse reared nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Whoa! Steady boy," he whispered to his horse as he patted his neck.

He then saw the reason for his horse's hesitation. Lying upon the ground was a girl. Henry dismounted the horse and edged him a safe distance from the girl.

"Clever boy," he stated and harnessed him to a nearby tree.

Henry slowly made his way to the girl. Standing over her, it looked to him as if she were not alive.

"Now where did you come from," he asked no one.

Removing one of his gloves as he knelt beside her, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was ice cold.

"Did you become lost?"

Bending over her, he placed his ear to her chest. He could hear a faint heartbeat and her chest slowly rose and dipped. She was breathing, but it was rather shallow.

Lifting his head, he considered her for a moment. She was quite pretty with her cropped curly blonde hair and freckled skin. He had only ever seen postulate nuns with shorn hair. Her dress was indeed odd. It was not the type of cloth to wear in the middle of the winter solstice.

Henry decided that he needed to get her warm or she would most certain freeze to death or parish from fever. However, it would be impossible to reach the castle or the nearby village before nightfall. Besides, his horse would not have the strength to carry them both. It would take an inanimate amount of time with one riding pillion.

Rising, he removed his cloak and placed it around the unconscious girl. Henry brought the horse closer and forced him to his forelegs in order to mount him carrying the girl. He carefully lifted the near frozen girl into his arms and mounted his horse. Pulling on the reins, he brought the horse to a standing position.

"Walk on, walk on," he commanded.

The girl's body was ice cold. Henry feared she would not survive. His only option was to take her to the cave he passed on the opposite side of the escarpment. He would have to make camp there and build a fire. This petite girl in his arms appeared to have a voluptuousness that he appreciated in women. Although, he sensed this was not a typical maiden. Her body bounced lightly upon his lap warming and arousing him. He felt shame for the imagery that was conjuring in his mind. Her life could not afford such contemplations.

Reaching the cave, Henry again commanded the horse down in order for him to dismount. Carrying the girl just inside the cave, he placed her upon the ground. Leading the horse inside the cave, he pulled the blanket from his knapsack and placed it over the girl.

He quickly went to work on building a fire. Luckily, he found dry shrubbery within the cave. Once he had the fire ablaze, he removed his gloves and placed his hand upon the girl's forehead and cheek. She was trembling so violently that it appeared she was suffering a seizure. Her body was cold, but her head was burning. Henry was aware of survival training. After all, he was a soldier. This was not the first time he had to use his training.

Survival technique number one was to keep warm. Shared bodily warmth was paramount. Stripping off his red leather jacket, he immediately felt the chill. His doeskin breeches were damp from kneeling earlier in the snow. It would not do well to become ill himself. Therefore, he shed the breeches as well with his leggings remaining for modesty's sake, lied beside the shivering girl, and covered them both with the blanket.

Placing his arms under and around her, he pulled her body to his. Her body continued to quake in his arms. The loose fabric she was adorned in did nothing to alleviate her tremors, but the fire seemed to begin to warm them both. Placing his chin upon her head, her shaking began to subside.

The girl smelled of flowers. It reminded Henry of springtime. He longed for the spring. The world became fresh and alive at that time of year. No more cold, bare trees or meadows, but alive and renewed.

Suddenly, the girl moaned. Henry looked down at her as she snuggled her face into his bare chest. Her shuddering had ceased, but she was now stirring his loins. He felt he would explode as her soft puffs of breath whispered upon his chest. It would not do well to fall asleep. She could awaken and be in for quite the shock. In bed with a near naked man…a stranger would be incomprehensible. She would certainly be out of sorts.

The girl's soft curvy body was wreaking havoc upon him. Oh how easily he could take her. He was the King of England. It was his right. However, he would not and could not take advantage in her current state of illness. Besides, he had imbibed in more than one willing courtesan.

Uncle Exeter continued to harangue him about his marital status. He was insistent about the upcoming inevitable meeting with Princess Katherine of France. Described as an intriguing beauty, Henry protested vociferously due to her age. She was but 14 years of age to his five and twenty. A child. He was a free spirit and would not marry until he found one to initiate a spark not only in his loins, but his mind as well.

_Ah well…I can think upon that later. For now, I will watch over you Sleeping Beauty._

Kirsa felt warmth. It was such a relief from the blistering cold and then the fire that threatened to consume her. It was as if fire ants had been biting her, but then a soothing pair of arms surrounded her. Even her legs were suddenly warm. She felt something moist upon her brow. She tried to speak but couldn't. Restraint! She was being restrained, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Kirsa snuggled closer. Her mind began to drift back to sleep.

Henry had shifted them both. His arms were becoming heavy. Tiring from the ordeal of caring for the girl. Her knee had inadvertently come into contact with his groin causing him to groan. It did not hurt but it merely made him become more aroused in his current state. Shirking off the lascivious thoughts crossing his mind, he gently placed his lips at her brow and found himself planting tiny kisses upon it. She was seducing him in her unconscious state.

He tenderly pressed her body closer to his enclosing even his legs around hers to keep her warm. The voluptuousness of her body was pressed against his to where he was quite content and comfortable. Guilt was not a factor in his mind as he was caring for her and her fever seemed to have subsided. Sleep began to overtake him. The guards would be searching for him.

_I can afford to rest a while. She'll not awaken in the meanwhile. _

Shutting his eyes, Henry drifted off to sleep.

Kirsa's eyes fluttered a few times before she was able to completely open them. Her entire body ached and it was dark. Regardless, she was so warm. At that moment, she felt the comforting arms about her, but also could tell that she wasn't fully clothed.

_What's going on?! _

Reality hit her like a two ton sledgehammer. There was a man holding her. He wasn't wearing anything. Kirsa couldn't see as her mind was still in a fever induced fog.

Had she actually gone to bed with a complete stranger? Did she get drunk? Was she drugged at the wedding? How could she lose her virginity to a stranger?

At that moment, she realized she couldn't have had sex because her lady parts were not aching. She had to get to the bottom of this. She would have to pry herself loose from the man's arms. It was so dark except for the faint light from a dying fire. The embers that remained cast a glow upon her supposed lover's face. He was quite handsome in a rugged way. Kirsa could tell he was tall for his head was well above hers and his legs were wrapped around her own but continued past her feet.

He adorned a scar upon his right cheek. Kirsa watched him sleep. He held her as a lover. Well, at least in her mind, this was how a lover should hold their partner. Caring and claiming all at once. His reddish beard, or so it seemed, tickled her forehead. For some unknown reason, she felt safe within the confines of his arm, legs, and the blanket. Where on Earth was she? Why was she sleeping on a hard floor?

Attempting to raise her head, everything was spinning and the anxiety set in. Not a good combination. Lying helpless with a stranger, unable to move, and lost. What if he kidnapped her and was some type of serial killer?

Without warning, she heard a sound near her. Turning to face the sound, she noticed a horse. It startled her so much so that she jerked her head causing it to connect with the sleeping stranger's chin.

_Fuuuuuuck!_

Henry was roused awake by a slight blow to his chin.

Looking at the still sleeping form in his arms, he placed his lips to her forehead and whispered, "So…you're still asleep. No fever. That is indeed a relief."

He carefully removed his arms from around her and sat up at the waist and rested his head upon his bent arm.

"From whence do you hail? I have never laid eyes upon such sweetness," he whispered as he placed the blanket to her neck.

Kirsa was terrified he would become wise to her consciousness.

_British?! I didn't meet any British guys at the wedding. Where did he come from? I need to wake up? How?! What if he is a psychopath? Oh God! What do I do now?_

"Your breaths seem to be steady now little one."

Henry noticed that she once again began to tremble. The fire had long gone down to mere embers. He had to start it once again or they both would be in dire straits. Leaving the warmth of his companion, he dressed into his jacket and trousers. He then began to place more wood upon the burning coals.

To Kirsa's chagrin and yet elated joy, she was free of her captor. Now was her chance to escape, but to where? Her clothes were indeed not suited for winter weather and she had not one clue where she was. Freedom won out. Her plan was to run as fast as she could and find the nearest business or house. She was bound to find someone to help her.

While his back was to her, Kirsa carefully and quietly rose. Her head was still a bit foggy, but she was willing to take a chance. With all her strength she could muster, she bolted past the stranger.

Henry was so shocked that she had been awake that he nearly burned himself on the fire. Jumping up, he sprinted after the pseudo-ill minx.

"Stop! Wait! I mean you no harm," he exclaimed after her.

"Stay away from me! Leave me alone! Help! Somebody please," yelled Kirsa to no one.

She stumbled through the forest with her captor fast on her heels. Twigs and branches scratching at her face, she ran blindly through the thicket. Unfortunately, she was so busy watching him behind her that she didn't see the roots of the trees sticking up like barriers blocking her from escape. She tumbled to the ground breaking off the heels of one of her shoes.

Kirsa scrambled to get back up, but she was breathless and weak. She pulled herself along the cold wet floor of the forest but was not able to make any progress as her kidnapper, or so he seemed was upon her.

"Are you alright," he asked breathless.

Kirsa turned to face him. He really was handsome…and…tall. She loved tall men. She really felt pathetic for thinking such thoughts.

"Please—don't hurt me," her voice quavered.

Henry knelt down before her, "I have no intention of causing you harm milady. I was merely healing you. I found you lying in the forest with only this," he gestured to her dress, "adornment. You would have frozen had I not come upon you when I did."

Kirsa simply stared at him.

Henry noted the fear in her eyes. She looked like a wild animal that would strike or bite him by the slightest movement toward her. He kept his distance of her.

He also noticed the cuts and scrapes she received from her escape attempt.

"Please," he said offering her his hand, "let me help you back to the cave. You need to be warm. I fear for your health. You were feverish and I am certain you remain thus. You have my solemn oath as a gentleman that I will not harm thee."

_Is he serious? 'Thee' and 'thus'?!_

Kirsa contemplated her situation. He was right. She would undoubtedly freeze to death out in the elements. Dressed in an evening gown and heels was not conducive to the environment. She was cold. Even her teeth were chattering and she felt so very weak. She still thought maybe he was a psycho. Perhaps he saw her and drugged her in anticipation of kidnapping her? What on Earth would an attractive man want with her?

Reaching for his hand, she thought to herself, "I'm probably going to regret this."

Henry assisted her to a standing position. She was very petite. She could not have been but one and a half meters tall. He knew she did not trust him, but she had no choice in the matter. He also had noticed her accent. She had a peculiar one. He could not place it. It was not English nor was it Slavic.

Kirsa watched him carefully as he helped her to her feet. He was lean, but solid. She knew well as she had nearly been intimate with him pressed so close to his chest. As she stood, she had forgotten about her broken heel on her shoe. She slipped again and caught her ankle between roots of the trees.

"Ouch!"

"Let me help you," he said as he reached down to free her trapped foot.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper.

Henry smiled up at her.

Kirsa felt she would swoon from the alluring smile. It was surreal. He was such a ruggedly beautiful man. He reminded her of someone. It just wasn't coming to her.

_Gods! I'm such a pathetic loser! What's wrong with me? He's probably a complete mad man!_

"Come little one. We must get you by the fire."

They started to walk when he noticed she was having difficulty with her foot wear.

"It is completely unnecessary for you to attempt walking."

With that said he picked her up and started for the cave. Kirsa was in such a state of shock that she couldn't protest. By the time she could think of something to say, they were already back inside the cave.

Placing her upon her feet, Henry picked up his cloak and wrapped it around her. She swayed as she watched him stoking the fire. Her head was fuzzy again and she wished to be warm and lying in his soothing arms.

_Here I go again! Jesus! Is he that gorgeous or am I stoned? _

"Come and sit by the fire please."

Kirsa moved to the fire and set beside him, but not too close. Henry noticed her hesitation and smiled.

"I would like to assure you Miss; I have the noblest intentions toward yourself."

"Who are you? Why am I in a cave? I didn't see you at the wedding. What do you want with me?"

Henry was intrigued.

"Shall we have introductions before we begin to understand your predicament?"

Kirsa nodded.

Henry stood. "My name is Henry. Henry Plantagenet. I am of," he paused, "a noble house." He bowed to Kirsa.

Kirsa looked up at him in awe. He is definitely old school.

"My name is Kirsa. Kirsa Dittmar. I'm of no house but I'm from Texas."

"Texas," Henry repeated with a look of confusion appearing upon his face.

"You're English," Kirsa said. "Where are we?"

"Why, you are in Westminster milady."

Kirsa continued to look at him in a state of perplexity.

"England," Henry continued.

Kirsa's mouth opened and closed a few times. She shook her head slightly.

"England? How can that be? I was in Austin at my friend's wedding. I know they were going to England for their honeymoon, but—why are you dressed like that and—a horse! What the hell is going on here?!"

Henry was as bewildered as Kirsa. She was using strange words and was dressed in unusual clothing. Perhaps she was an escaped mad woman? Before that happened, he began to attempt to reason with her. He feared she was going to become hysterical.

"Milady, I do not know under what circumstances you came to be in this realm, but I can assure you I do not know under what pretenses you were brought here. This is England. I am going to help you to the best of my ability, but you must be reasonable. I know not where this Texas or Austin is in England. I have never heard of such a place, nor do I fathom your language or dress. You seem to be in a delusional state."

Kirsa felt her anxiety return. Where in the world was her purse. She wished she had brought her Xanax with her. She felt the pressure in her chest as her heart beat wildly. Suddenly, the cave was closing in on her, the fire burned higher, and her breathing became shallow and too fast. She began to sway slightly.

Henry feared she would swoon and hit her head upon the ground. He reached out to her and assisted her to sit down.

"Please. Calm yourself. We shall consider the options as to what has become of you," Henry said quietly to her as they sat down.

"I'm having an anxiety attack and need my prescription. I need to find a drug store."

Henry looked at her oddly. Now he was convinced that she was ill.

"Don't look at me like that. Have I suddenly sprouted horns or something? I need to know what is going on here," she exclaimed.

Henry decided that chivalry was not going to work with this strange girl. It was clear to him that she hadn't a clue as to who he was. Puffing his chest out and sticking out his chin, he would use his power as ruler to calm her and attempt to ease her mind. He did not wish to frighten her, but it was evident that she was becoming more and more agitated.

"You girl, will not use that tone with your ruler. I am King of England and you have been a most unwitting subject. Now, you will yield to me and obey. Do you understand?"

Kirsa simply stared at him with her mouth agape. He was insane.

_King of England? Henry Plantagenet? What—OH MY GOD! He really is—I've traveled back in time? Uncle Quido! What have you done?!_

The last thing Kirsa remembered was feeling herself falling…right into Henry's lap. Blackness-

She dreamed of rolling grassy hills and meadows overflowing with flowers of all colors. The sun was high in the sky and the birds were flittering across the vast blueness. She ran toward the top of the hill to better see the countryside. It was breathtaking.

She could see the castle in the distance. _"I wonder what he is doing right now?" _Standing there daydreaming for a moment, she turned to start her trek back to the village when suddenly out of nowhere, a white horse reared and protested her presence. She screamed as it looked like the horse would fall down upon her.

"Kirsa! Kirsa!"

She could hear someone calling her name.

"Awaken milady!"

She was being lifted up by her arms and pulled into an embrace. She was shaking, but the embrace was comforting and familiar. Once coming to her senses, she realized it was Henry.

_Henry! Oh no! I'm still here. I thought it was all a dream! _

"Are you alright Kirsa?"

Kirsa sighed and reluctantly released Henry.

"Thank you your majesty. I am quite alright. It was merely a ridiculous dream. My apologies for startling you. I also must apologize for my odd behavior."

She stood and knelt before him.

"There is no need for that Kirsa. You are ill. I must say that I have been quite concerned. In your earlier state, I was afraid that you were overcome with delirium. I can see now that it was the fever that was upon you. I am relieved to see that you are well."

Kirsa stared into the fire trying to think of some way to explain this to him.

_Uncle! Oh where are you? We had talked about this yes, but I wasn't prepared._

She turned her face toward the king. The explanation had to be planned. According to history, Hal was one smart cookie. Lucky for her, she knew her history, but also made it a point to specifically study the Plantagenet legacy. She and her "mad scientist" Uncle Quido Dittmar had many a talk about Richard II, Henry IV and his son, Henry V. She was quite taken by him. By all accounts, he appeared to be quite handsome, and now that she was seated next to the man himself, she was certainly not mistaken.

The scar from the arrow wound was still prominent. It made him look even more distinguished. It must have hurt like the dickens to have that thing removed. She noticed how much he looked like Tom Hiddleston's own Hal. No wonder she was enchanted.

"Your majesty," she began, "may I beg for audience?"

Henry looked over at her and smirked.

"My dear Kirsa, there is no need for such formalities. After all, I am not wearing my crown and we are not at court. Please…" he responded.

"You asked where I hail. I am from the lower region of Germany."

Henry looked at her with a hint of skepticism. He was very well traveled due most in part to his father's predecessor Richard. However, he had never been to the North of Germanic country. She for certain had the look of the Germanic peoples with her fair skin and blonde hair but with a fragility of manner he believed was contrary to what he identified as Slavik.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

It did not take Kirsa by surprise. After all, she had prepared herself for this questioning.

"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch."

Henry smiled and prodded the fire…knowing he was a fool for asking.

"Sie sprechen es sehr gut ihre Majestät," she continued. "Wo haben Sie Deutsch sprechen?"

He looked up at her and tilted his head to the side.

"Oxford."

Kirsa bit her lower lip and nodded. He still looked too smug for her liking. She decided to throw him a curve ball.

"Je ne suis pas aussi versé en allemand comme je suis en français."

_French! Damn! I am lousy at French! _

She paused for a moment and giggled.

"Pardonnez-moi ..."

He smiled at her with a know-it-all grin.

"Mon français est—mauvais!"

Henry laughed.

Kirsa's pride and ego were bruised by his chuckling. She let herself shine for only if the briefest of moments. Not to be outdone by a pompous noble king, she switched tactics on him…

"Είμαι πολύ καλύτερα στα ελληνικά." Translation: "You see, I'm much better at Greek."

Henry sat there and eyed her suspiciously.

"Greek. Touche my dear lady," he responded as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

Kirsa smiled at him. They sat there in silence for a few seconds and then both stared back into the fire.

"Your majesty,"

Henry looked over at her. "Please call me Henry," he requested of her.

She smiled and looked into the fire.

"Very well…Henry. I must confess something to you. I do not know anyone in the nearby village (she was hoping there was a nearby village) nor do I have any relatives in Westminster. I believe I have been robbed. What is to become of me?"

Kirsa was hoping that she would be able to bide her time with him until she could figure out her dire situation.

"You will accompany me back to the castle and we will set about to find what has happened to you. I fear you were injured during your ordeal. Perhaps you were hit about the head."

Henry moved closer to her. Reaching up, he inquired, "May I?"

Kirsa nodded in response.

He gently placed his hands upon her head palpating his way to feel if she was sound. His hands seemed to linger a bit more than was necessary causing her at one point to almost release aloud a sigh of contentment. It did not go unnoticed by him.

"Your head seems sound to me. However, there is the possibility it was bruised. Do you not remember anything preceding your unconscious state?"

Kirsa lied. "I do remember traveling through the nearby village on horseback, but my horse was spooked, reared, and I fell. Perhaps my horse has gone back to the village? I should let you be and get started back to the village. It must be early morning by now?"

She hoped that he would buy her lie at least until she could figure out what on Earth to do.

"By no means will I allow a young maiden to travel alone in the dark. There are many thieves about even well into morning. You are still not well enough. As a matter of fact, I believe that you should still be resting."

Henry placed the blanket upon the ground and coerced Kirsa to lie down. He then placed his cloak atop her to keep her warm.

"Oh no! I cannot take your cloak! It is too cold. You might become ill yourself!" She took off his cloak and offered it to him.

"I wouldn't hear of such a thing. I am warm by this fire. I insist, you must rest little Kirsa."

The last statement was more of a command. Who was she to disobey a king? Lying down, she smiled up at him. "Thank you your majesty. Thank you for rescuing me."

"It was my pleasure and my duty milady."

Once again, Kirsa closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

_What am I going to do?_

"I am quite concerned Quido! She hasn't returned from Colleen's wedding! What in the hell is going on? After all, she spends all of her free time with you working on all those ridiculous experiments!"

Quido Dittmar looked at his younger brother and patted him on the back. "She is fine brother. You worry over her like a mother hen. I promise you, she merely went on an excursion. She will be back in time."

"That's what I'm afraid of Quido! Time! Please tell me you did NOT send her back. I know that your experiments have a tendency to actually work, but at quite a high price. Remember," said Kirsa's father Paul.

Quido only stared back at his brother.

Paul held the look of disbelief upon his face.

"No! You sent her to 15th century England!? How could you!?"

"I promise you Paul, she will be perfectly fine. In fact…"

Paul interrupted him, "You know that is a dangerous time. She is obsessed with the Plantagenets and they were not the noble men that we read and see on PBS specials Quido! Get her back now!"

Quido moaned. "I'll go directly, but give her some time. I promise you, she is safe! As a matter of fact, I had visited prior to sending her. She is in competent hands."

Paul shook his head. "No! Absolutely not! I don't care what you say you saw when you 'visited'. Being a scholar myself Quido, I know the history! She is in danger."

"Of what Paul? Falling in love with that century, the people, the place…history? Your daughter has a keen sense. She is a brilliant scholar. Trust her."

Paul knew his brother was right. His daughter did not belong in the 21st century. She was born too late. He was always saying that. Many a night, they had discussed the possibility of time travel. Now, it seemed, it was a reality. He feared for her safety. The Plantagenets may have been royalty, but for the most part, they were less than the magnanimous portrait that they had been painted to be. Harry Plantagenet least of all. He was a brutal and ruthless soldier. It was known that he appreciated the term "soldier king".

His little Kirsa was still his baby girl. With three older brothers, she was treated like glass. She despised it and would often try to prove them all wrong. She was not a Tomboy, but a caring and resilient young woman. He hoped against hope that the king would be opposite of all he had learned about him.

"I trust you Quido. Just please, bring her back safely."

"Don't worry brother. I promise."

Paul Dittmar began to exit the room when he stopped at the door, "And bring yourself back in one piece you mad scientist!"

Quido smiled and watched his brother leave the room.

He walked over to his desk and picked up the picture frame. There, housed within the frame, was a smiling Kirsa. It was the day she graduated from university. She was always a brilliant student. She excelled at all the History and Literature courses. Now, it appeared, she was getting first-hand experience from an historical icon. King Henry the fifth.

"Alright Dickens," he said to his English Bull Terrier, "let's go and fetch Kirsa."


End file.
